Our Story
by Moonlit Seductress
Summary: ***FINISHED***Thanks for everything, people!
1. Discovery

Disclaimer: The characters portrayed in this story don't belong to me, I'm just playing with them for a while.  
  
I'm back! I'm sure you read my little message, saying that I was reported and my account blocked, but I'm back, can't keep me down. Anyways, my not being able to post gave me lots of time to write. Here's an example of that - a nice little T/H story - my favourite pairing after H/M. I decided to write something sort of graphic - it's nowhere near HOTN, but it's the most I've ever done. So, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Here we go.  
  
Our Story  
Chapter 1:Discovery  
  
Hawkeye's POV  
  
Well, we hid it as long as we could. It was hard to conceal - it required a lot of lies and quick thinking, alibis and fake explanations. Sneaking around is bad, but getting caught is worse. Not quite right in the act - we hadn't been there long enough to get that far, but far enough to put us in a very compromising position.  
  
I know we're both thinking back to the beginning. Frank, Hotlips and Henry were all gone to Tokyo, Frank and Hotlips for a week of R&R, and Henry for a conference. This left me and Trapper as the only doctors. This wasn't a problem - the peace talks were on, and a temporary ceasefire was called. Some wounded drifted through the camp, but never too many at once.  
  
One day, three casualties showed up - two superficial, and one with a really bad chest wound. I took that one immediately, while Trapper treated the other two. The kid insisted on dying, despite my trying, and, dejected and depressed, I headed for the Swamp. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Trapper's POV  
  
Hawkeye nearly ripped the door off its hinges as he came in, ignoring the blood that had dried on his face, presumably from his patient, and threw himself on his bunk. I stood, martini in hand, unsure of what to do. I sat on his bunk. He flipped over, presenting me with his back. An overwhelming urge to stroke that back reasuringly overtook me, but I repressed it, settling instead with asking questions.  
  
"Did you lose him?" He nodded. "He hemorrhaged. Nothing I could do. Now piss off." I shook my head, amazed at how stubborn he was. "No way. C'mon, let it out, you're not doing yourself any good bottling it up." He opened his eyes, and they flashed furiously, turning into deep pools of anger and frustration. "You're lucky I bottle things up, or I'd have you flat on your back right now," he snarled, not realising what he had said. Stupidly, I also didn't realize, didn't realize the implications of what I was saying, how much I was revealing - until the word was out of my mouth. "Promise?" * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Hawkeye's POV  
  
My heart leapt at his comment. I didn't think it was possible that he might feel the same way I did. I wasn't even sure how I felt. I was so confused - why did the nurses fail to get me excited any longer? Why did my heart flutter when Trapper walked into the room? Why couldn't I keep my eyes off him, his deep brown eyes, his beautifully shaped lips, his toned arms, his muscled abdomen - and lower. Taking a deep breath, I met the gaze he fixed on me.  
  
Fawn brown eyes met antique blue, and my heart began to race. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Trapper's POV  
  
My breathing quickened as those blue eyes locked with mine. I slowly placed my hand on his knee, rubbing softly. When he didn't pull back, as I expected, I carefully slid my hand up higher, brushing the inside of his thigh.  
  
He didn't stop me, never tore his eyes from mine. Taking a chance, I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his, my tongue exploring his mouth. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Hawkeye's POV  
  
Heaven. Pure ectasy. My mouth was filled with the taste of Trapper's lips - a taste I didn't even know I had been craving for so long. I grabbed the back of his curly head, keeping his mouth locked on mine. Taking charge, I flipped him onto his back, my lips leaving his, turning my attention on his throat. I experimented, kissing his Adam's apple, drawing my tongue across his collarbone, enjoying the shivers I provoked.  
  
I reached the collar of his olive drab shirt. "Don't you hate things that get in the way?" I muttered, breathing softly on his neck. He raised his head, clearly confused. "Traffic jams, crowds..this shirt." I tugged at the bottom of it. He caught my drift, slightly raising his body so I could pull the shirt up and over his head. I pulled my own shirt off. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Trapper's POV  
  
True to his word, he had me flat on my back - athough not in the way he originally meant. Not that either of us really minded. This was far better. This - his lips moving over my body, touching all the right places. This - our hands roaming places neither of us ever thought they would roam. This - the two of us feeling things we never thought we could feel.  
  
I could now see why the nurses of the 4077th gossiped about him, why he had the reputation he had. I could not see, however, why most of the time, the nurses turned him down. Boy, they had no idea what they were missing. Of course, I expected nothing less. You couldn't have the reputation Hawk had, and there not be a reason for it. And now I had the 4077th's best lover here with me.  
  
After many hours of fevered lovemaking, we lay together, still sweaty from the physical exertion. His head rested on my chest, while I lay my cheek on his silken black hair. We were so close, almost one, and I knew we both wished we could stay like that forever. But t'was not to be. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Hawkeye's POV  
  
Now, we are frozen, me in just my pants, Trapper in even less. I am propped up on my elbows, Trapper is lying on top of me, his hands on my belt buckle, our lips attached. We exchange a frightened glance. Of all the people who could have caught us, this was the worst one. No. Actually, Frank or Hotlips would have been worse. But this was bad. Very bad.  
  
Radar stood at the door, scared expression on his face. I was worried - he couldn't have looked any more scared if he was in front of a firing squad. I wished his face showed disgust, uncomprehension - anything but fear. I didn't want my "little brother" to be afraid of me.  
  
"'Scuse me," he muttered, backing out of the door. As soon as he left, Trapper collapsed. "Shit,"he groaned against my stomach. "That kid will be scarred for life now." I wriggled out from under my lover. "I have to talk to him." I threw my shirt back on, preparing to leave. Trapper's hand on my arm stopped me. "Look down," he advised. I glanced down and grimaced. I almost walked out in to the compound with a hard - on."I'll get rid of it," he suggested, licking his lips. I stared. "We've just been caught necking by a 19 year old boy, and all you can think of is sex? I think I'll wear my robe." I grabbed it off the hook, and headed for Radar's office.  
  
I walked in to find him sitting on his bunk, face buried in his hands. I wanted to comfort him, but knew I shouldn't touch him - he might get the wrong idea. I settled with clearing my throat loudly. He looked up. "Radar, we have to talk." He refused to meet my glance. "I don't wanna know about it," he mumbled. "Radar, what you saw..you can't tell anyone. Not even Henry." He finally looked me in the eye. "I know. I'm not a kid. I know that much." I stood there, unsure of what to do. "Radar, this doesn't change anything - you don't have to be afraid of us." He bit his lip. "Yeah, but what if.." he trailed off. I knew instantly what he was afraid of. "Never. We wouldn't do that to you." Here was this poor kid, thinking we were gonna hit on him. I patted his shoulder. "It's not wrong, you know. It's just..a different way of loving someone. And everybody has to love someone." He nodded. "I know. I just need some time to, you know, get used to it." He grinned carefully up at me. I grinned back, assuring him that things were the same between us. "I'll see you later, Radar." He nodded. I walked back to the Swamp, blissfully happy that that was fixed. But that was only the beginning of our problems.  
  
***TBC***  
  
Hahahahaha! Cliffhanger! Please review! 


	2. Unacceptance

Hey people, thanks for the lovely reviews. I have a question? Who doesn't like us? First, my story is reported, now Fallen Hawk's "The Proof" - who's next? Someone around here doesn't like what we're doing. Hey maybe it's a person who doesn't like slash, because both stories were slash. Anyways, my condolences, Fallen Hawk, that was a really great story - maybe you should email the next chapters to the people who like it. I'm going to shut up now, here's chapter 2.  
  
Hawkeye's POV  
  
"Oh God Trapper, that was amazing." I collapsed, my lover settling beside me. "Hey, you better get back to your own bed," he advised. "Frank'll be back soon." I nodded, kissing him. "Here I go." Kiss. "I'm leaving." Kiss. "I'm gone now." Kiss. Trapper pushed me away. "As much as I enjoy that, do you want to get caught by Ferret Face?" I shuddered. Radar was bad enough, but Frank Burns was unthinkable. I hurried back to my bunk, just as Frank opened the door, plonking his suitcase on the floor.  
  
"Hi Frank," I greeted, as did Trapper. He looked at us. "I didn't deserve that!" he whined, classic reaction. I grinned at Trapper. "You're right Frank, you certainly didn't." He gave me a weird look, as if he was trying to figure out why I was agreeing. "Are you making fun of me?" he asked pitifully. I rolled my eyes. The man was so paranoid.  
  
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Trapper's POV  
  
As Frank unpacked, Hawkeye snapped his fingers to get my attention. I glanced in his direction, and he winked. "Watch this," he mouthed. "Hey Frank," he began, conversationally. "How was your R&R?" Frank's eyes started to spin in their sockets. "There is absolutely nothing going on between Major Houlihan and I," he exclaimed, rushing out of the tent. I laughed appreciatively, then pounced on Hawkeye, straddling him. "Now, where were we before we so rudely interrupted?" I asked, just about to lower my lips to meet his, when the PA crackled, someone obviously trying to clear the static. Hawkeye glared. "Oh no you don't, not now." His threats went unnoticed, however, because the PA blared. "WOUNDED IN THE COMPOUND! GET YOURS WHILE THEY LAST."  
  
"Damn," he swore, pushing me up gently. A quick kiss, and we assumed the roles of "good friends". And ran to do the work we were here for.  
  
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Hawkeye's POV  
  
As I bent over my patient, Trapper's gloved hand brushed mine, and our eyes met. It was pure murder, having to be in such close contact with him. I almost wished we could just tell everyone, and be done with it.  
  
After 23 long hours, we were finally finished. Everyone funneled out of the room, Trapper and I lazing behind. I rolled my head around, and it cracked loudly. I grimaced. "Ew," Trapper offered. I pulled off my mask and threw it at him. "Ew yourself," I replied. I glanced through the windows into the change room, and froze at the sight that met my eyes.  
  
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Trapper's POV  
  
I threw the mask back at Hawkeye, but he ignored it. His eyes, dark pools of rage, were rivited on the change room. I peered through the window - and a horrible sight met my eyes.  
  
Frank stood with a gun, pressed against Radar's head. "Something's different with them," Frank rambled. "And I want to know what it is - you know, you know everything around here." Radar was visibly trembling. His eyes met mine through the window. "Hold on," I mouthed, turning to Hawkeye. "I'll kill him," he seethed, hands curled into tight fists, his knuckles going white. I snapped my fingers. "Follow my lead," I muttered. I pushed open the doors. "So, I hear Henry's thinkin' of leaving," I commented loudly. Hawkeye gave me a look of pure confusion, but then caught on. "Yeah, which would leave Ferret Face in charge, that would rot," he remarked, just as loud. Frank dropped the gun and kicked it under the bench. "Oh, hi Frank. We were just talking about how much having you in charge would suck." Frank muttered something unfathomable, and slunk out of the room. I grabbed a glove, pulled it on, and removed the gun, while Hawkeye talked to Radar.  
  
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Hawkeye's POV  
  
I made my way over to the frightened young man, though how I got there I'll never know, I was so mad I could barely see. "You ok?" I demanded. Radar nodded. "Good. But Frank isn't. I'll kill him first chance I get. He'd better stay away from me unless there's a crowd to restrain me." I vowed. Radar took a couple of steps backwards, his face showing fear. I didn't doubt I was rather scary looking at the moment. "Ok, get out of here, and stay away from Frank." He nodded before hurrying out.  
  
"We have to tell Henry." Trapper turned to me, face twisted in surprise. "You're kidding, right? Henry'd want to know what's going on, and Radar hates lying to him. He'd bust our asses if he wasn't careful." I was still raging, pacing back and forth. I stopped, meeting Trapper's stare. "I took an oath never to take another human life, but if I had the chance, I'd throw it away in a second if it meant getting even with that sanctimonious bastard." Trapper grabbed my arms. "Will you cool off?" he ordered. "Your eyes are creepy." I frowned. He grabbed my hand, pulled me back to the Swamp, and thrust our mirror into my hands. I glanced in it, and almost dropped it. "Christ," I said, staring at my navy blue eyes, still narrowed, and my gritted teeth. "It doesn't even look like me."  
  
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Trapper's POV  
  
Hawk gave the mirror one more gaze before hanging it back up. "So what are we going to do about Ferret - Goddamned - Face?" he asked, not doing great at keeping his temper in check. I shrugged. "Just stay out of his way, and don't kill him. I love you too much to lose you now." I said it rather offhand, but then realized it was the first time I told him I loved him. His eyes filled with tears, and he reached over to caress my curls. "I love you too," he murmured huskily.  
  
A knock on the door sent us apart quickly, Hawkeye practically leaping onto his bunk, and me settling into the chair next to the Still. "Come in," Hawkeye called. Radar poked his head in cautiously. Ever since the last time, he made sure to knock, and come in slowly. "Get in here," Hawkeye ordered impatiently. "Um, Cap'n McIntyre, that Michaelson kid is doin' real bad. Colonel Blake thinks you're gonna hafta open him up again." I swore, jumping from my seat and hurrying after Radar.  
  
A while later, I returned to the Swamp. Hawkeye was shaving, singing softly. I slipped in silently, and crept up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and kissing the back of his neck. He jumped at the touch, then swore, grabbing a towel to wipe the blood that dripped from his cheek. "Thanks a lot," he remarked dryly, throwing the towel down and picking up his razor again. "No problem," I said, nipping where his neck met his shoulders, a sensitive spot. "Quit that," he breathed, the way he pressed his back against my chest a clear indicator his words meant nothing. "You're gonna give me a hickey, and then I'll be in trouble, because people will ask where I got it, and I can't say from the nurses because I haven't touched one of them for 2 weeks now, and - Shit!" His ranting ended abruptly, in a profanity. "What?" I asked, lips against the nape of his neck. "Frank's coming," he replied, pulling out of my arms.  
  
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Hawkeye's POV  
  
We pulled apart quickly, sitting on our respective bunks. Frank entered, shot us a very uncharacteristically evil look, grabbed something off his shelf, and left. I sighed with relief. I had come very close to getting up and flattening him in the short time he was there.  
  
Trapper was shaking. "Did you see the look he gave us?" he demanded. "It was like he..like he knows everything!" I scoffed. "Frank Burns know something? Yeah, right." Trapper stared at me incredulously. "I don't think you understand. If they catch us, yeah, sure, we'll go home, yay, but they'll take my kids away from me! I can't live without my daughters!"  
  
My turn to stare. "So what, are you saying you want to break things off?" I asked, determined to keep the fear rising in me pushed down. He bit his lip. "No..well, I don't know..I love you, but.." I stood up, furious. "Come find me when you've decided if you really want to be with me or not," I snapped, stalking out of the tent.  
  
***TBC***  
  
Boy, I love cliffhangers, don't you? Well, only if they're on MY stories, haha. Please review. 


	3. Discomfort

Thanks to all who reviewed, and HUGS! to broncobabe - I was really surprised to see you liked and wanted more of my story - you (and Fallen Hawk, and Raven) are the M*A*S*H Slash Queens, as far as I'm concerned, so I just wanted to say thank you so much!***WARNING***This chapter contains coarse language, suicidal tendencies (cutting and such), and m/m situations. Don't b*itch to me if you don't like it, cause YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.  
  
Our Story  
  
Chapter 3: Discomfort  
  
Trapper's POV  
  
I sat there for about 10 minutes after Hawkeye stomped out, lost in thought. I knew I loved him with all my heart, but I also loved my children. Louise was the farthest thing from my mind at the time - my kids came first, and Hawkeye next. How could I abandon my flesh and blood? Then again, how could I abandon the only real soul mate I'd ever have?  
  
I got up and poured myself a martini, took one sip, and hurled it across the tent. It crashed into Frank's shelves and exploded, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. Instinctively, I threw up my arms to protect my face. A sharp pain in my wrist stunned me momentarily. I gazed, transfixed at the stream of scarlet blood spurting from an artery. I let it drip down my arm, almost hypnotized. A voice pierced my haze.  
  
"Captain McIntyre? Trapper!" I jerked out of my daze to find a concerned looking Radar pressing a t - shirt to my wrist. "You ok? What happened? Did you cut yourself?" His questions didn't irritate me as much as his attempts to still my bleeding. I pulled away from him. "I'm fine. I..dropped my glass, and it broke. Some of the glass flew up and cut my wrist. I'll go bandage it..Radar, you haven't seen Hawkeye, have you?" He shrugged. "Nope." I left, holding my wrist and squeezing gently, trying to produce more blood, to replace that which Radar mopped up.  
  
As I pushed open the doors to Post - Op, my eyes met the eyes of the last person on earth I wanted to see right then.  
  
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Hawkeye's POV  
  
I stalked across the compound, nearly ripping the door to Post - Op off its hinges. Radar stared at me, but I stormed past him, not in a talking mood. I sat down at the desk in the corner, pulling some reports towards me, and fiercely scrawling the words.  
  
The door banged open, and - damn it - Trapper came in. I stood to confront him, but my words died as I saw the blood dripping from his arm - and he was making no effort to stop it.  
  
"What the hell happened?" I demanded, wrapping a bandage around his injury. "Dropped the martini glass. It shattered, and the glass cut me," he replied dully. His gorgeous hazel eyes were slightly glassy. "I think I'm gonna put you on an IV," I decided. He shook his head. "I'm fine. I didn't lose that much blood. Just tie it up." I obeyed, frowning at the slightly wobbliness in his stance. I found myself wondering how much he wasn't telling me.  
  
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Trapper's POV  
  
Hawk finished with my arm, and I left abruptly, without a word. I returned to the Swamp, grateful that Radar was gone - and pissed that he'd cleaned up the glass. I dropped onto my bunk and fell asleep.  
  
I sat up and glanced at my watch. 8:00. Hawkeye would be off soon. As I looked around, a flash caught my eye. Radar had missed a rather large, jagged, wicked looking piece of glass. I picked it up carefully, studying it. Putting it down on the table, I slowly peeled back the bandage, revealing the long pinkish white slice on my skin. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the glass - and slowly, agonizingly, drew the jagged edge over my wrist, breaking open the skin, watching the blood begin to pour. I repeated this process twice, before replacing the bandage, watching the blood soak into it rather quickly. I pulled it off, ripped the already bloodstained t - shirt Radar had used into a tourniquet, and wrapped it around my hand, then reapplied the bandage. Grabbing a light jacket, I left the Swamp, heading for a large rock just outside the camp, settling down in the gathering dark.  
  
I searched my pockets, coming up with a package of cigarettes and a matchbook. Success! Hawk had hidden my smokes for awhile, slowly breaking me of the habit. For weeks now, I hadn't really wanted one bad enough to look for them, and now, here they were, in my jacket. I pulled one out, lit it, and took a long, calming drag.  
  
Suddenly, a hand flashed past my eyes, smacking the cigarette out of my mouth. "Shit," I swore, gazing up into the peacock blue eyes of Hawkeye Pierce. He frowned. "I thought you quit," he chastised. "Fuck you," I replied, not in the mood for his lectures. I picked up the cigarette, shook the dirt free, and relit it. He smirked. "I know you want to, but now is not the time." I answered by showing him my middle finger, dragging on the soothing cigarette. He sighed, sitting next to me on the huge, flat rock.  
  
"I'm sorry about earlier. I overreacted. I know what would happen to you if we were caught." I nodded absently, not really listening. "S'okay. It's not a big deal."  
  
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Hawkeye's POV  
  
I watched him expel the smoke luxuriously, mildly annoyed. He knew I had finally kicked the habit, and here he was, sitting not a foot away, puffing on the one thing I wanted more than anything. I fought for a while, but my self control wasn't strong enough, and the craving won. "Gimme one," I demanded. He handed it to me, looking mildly surprised. "I thought YOU quit, Mr. Nicotine Freak," he commented, crushing the butt under his boot. "It's all your fault, you dumbass," I replied, striking a match and pulling deeply on the cigarette, ashamed for giving up so easily.  
  
He grinned impishly. "My ass may be dumb," he agreed. "But that doesn't stop you from enjoying it oh so much." Growling low in my throat, I tossed aside the cigarette and straddled him, pushing him down on his back, forcefully pressing his lips to mine. This was not tender lovemaking, as all our other times had been, this was harsh, with one goal - revenge - and I wasn't sure how he would handle it.  
  
After, I got up, and headed back to the Swamp. As I threw my shirt onto my bunk, I noticed a brownish red stain, that hadn't been there before. Looking closer, I identified it - something I saw much too much of around here. Blood - and exactly where Trapper's left arm had been pressed for most of the time. It had been hours since he cut himself, it would have stopped bleeding - unless he was tampering. Suddenly not comfortable with him being alone, I ran back to the rock - only to find he wasn't there.  
  
***TBC***  
  
Sorry bout the delay, everybody, but I haven't been feeling very creative lately - plus I have exams this week. Yes, I know, this chapter took a turn for the worst - I said I wasn't creative, I never said I wasn't morbid. Please review. 


	4. Foresight

Disclaimer: Of course I own them. That's why I'm sitting here. Writing fanfictions. While the TV still shows repeats. And there's no 24 hour channel. Yup, I own 'em alright.  
  
Hooray, people reviewed my craptastic story. *'s indicate flashbacks, as I haven't yet figured out how to get the stupid italics to show up. This chapter is gonna be all Hawkeye's POV - though I feel I write better as Trapper - and the next one will be Trapper. There is no end to this story in sight, I just keep writing, and writing, and writing. I will be posting faster now - I just finished one exam, not half an hour ago, and I have one more to do. I will then be free of school, and be home, with little to do but type. And daydream. La la la.***WARNING***This chapter contains coarse language, suicidal tendencies, and m/m situations. Don't b*tch to me if you don't like it, cause YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!  
  
Our Story Chapter 4: Foresight  
  
I should have known. He was cutting again. He'd done it before, about a month after we'd arrived in this 24 hour hellhole. His wife and two daughters had their birthdays, all in the same month, and he couldn't be there for any of them. He had been devastated, and fell into depression. His work in OR grew sloppy, and one day, he carelessly let a scalpel slip. He had inadvertently slit his wrist, and left to fix it. Later that week, I found him, alone in the Swamp, unconscious, with a bloodstained pocketknife next to him. I cleaned him up, helped him out of his rut. It was then that I started to realize my feelings for the curly haired surgeon. And he was doing it again. I knew it was just a matter of time before he made it final.  
  
*He's sitting on a bunk, head in his hands. Hawkeye storms over, grabbing a wrist, and revealing the criss cross pattern of scars, some healed, some not. "What the hell are you doing, you ass?" Hawkeye demands, staring in amazement. "Leave me alone," he replies, jerking his arm out of Hawkeye's grasp.*  
  
I settled into my bunk, replaying this memory over and over, until I fell asleep - a sleep plagued with dreams.  
  
The next morning, I found Trapper in the shower. Now, do you know how hard it is to talk seriously with someone when they're standing in front of you completely naked, tantalizing water droplets clinging to their skin. I shook all the interestingly fetishlike ideas from my mind, and concentrated.  
  
"Trapper, I gotta ask you something, and you have to tell me the truth. Are you cutting?" He smiled softly, placing his hands on my arms. "I give you my word," he said softly, tracing my jaw line. "I..am..not..cutting. I'm fine. Thanks for caring so much." With that, he threw on his robe, leaving me with a very suspicious feeling. "Dammit!" I swore. "How the hell can I be serious when he's so damn sexy?"  
  
I found him in Post - Op. "Are you on duty?" I demanded brusquely. He shook his head, clearly confused. I grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the Supply Tent, acting as inconspicuous as possible. As I yanked him inside, slamming the door, he arched his eyebrows in amusement. "Frisky, aren't we?" I pushed him against the wall. "Don't talk. You're wasting energy." As I continued my ministrations, there was no time left for coherence - for either of us.  
  
Quite some time later, as you can well imagine, we lay on the floor, cuddled together. "What was that about?" he inquired, leaning on one elbow to look me in the eyes. I shrugged. "That conversation in the showers. You looked so good, I only had one thing on my mind. Which isn't a rare occurrence." He laughed, relishing the power he held over me. "Well now, the famous Dr. Pierce can't hold in his desire for Dr. McIntyre. I guess we established who's the dominant one in this relationship." I growled. "You want dominant?" I tangled my fingers through his curls, forcing his lips to mine.  
  
Then, disaster struck. The bright light from outside, footsteps, and a voice. "Pierce? McIntyre? Oh my God!"  
  
***TBC***  
  
Bwahahahaha! I am so evil! I know this chapter is short, but I JUST posted, and I really wanted you put you guys on edge..haha..now you have to wait to find out who it is. 10 Super Points and a brownie to the first 3 people to guess correctly! Please note, Super Points are not redeemable for cash. They are a figment of the author's twisted imagination, and cannot be used anywhere. Talk about your white elephants. 


	5. Regret

Heeheehee! Ok, I think I've tortured you enough now. Congratulations to Annabelle, Lily, and kilikina– your brownie and Super Points are in the mail. Please allow six to eight months..hehe, I mean weeks..for delivery. And broncobabe and Holula, I never even thought of Henry, good idea. Ok. Time for an explanation for this chapter. Henry goes. Trapper _stays_. Potter comes. Ok? Please keep in mind this chapter is all Trapper's POV

Our Story

Chapter 5: Regret

_"Pierce? McIntyre? Oh my God!"_

Those words would echo in my mind for years. I couldn't believe it. We got caught – again! 

Margaret stood over us, blue eyes filled with shock and confusion – but to my surprise, not disgust. Luckily for us, Margaret was on the outs with Frank at the time, and was more tolerant of us. Hawkeye, who was frozen with shock, suddenly jumped up. "Margaret, it's not what it looks like," he began. Then he paused. "What the hell am I saying, of course it's what it looks like." He paced back and forth. Margaret sat on a crate. She was taking this a lot better than I expected. 

"Well," she said shakily. "I guess this explains why you've left my nurses alone for the last little while." I grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, this would be the reason. Look, Margaret, you cannot tell Frank what you saw here." She arched an eyebrow. "Me? Tell that slimy, lipless eel anything? You've got to be kidding me." She smiled. "Don't worry. I know I've been rotten to you guys before - " 

"And we've been rotten too," Hawkeye interrupted. " – but that is over now," she continued. "I'm calling a truce." She stuck out her hand, a smile on her face. I reached out and shook it, Hawk clasping both our hands in his. "Truce," he agreed. 

"ATTENTION ALL PERSONNELL, INCOMING CHOPPERS, AND I DON'T THINK IT'S PRESENTS FROM GENERAL CLAYTON!" The three of us sighed. "Alrighty, let's get a move on," Hawk pressed, moving towards the door. We exited into the dreary grayness of a Korean rainy day. 

"Clamp."

"Clamp."

"Retract that bit there, atta girl. Ok, now gimme some suction, right in there."

"Suction."

"3 0 silk. Ow, that's my finger, you caught it in the clamp!" Hawk's voice rose to a shout and he pulled his hand from his patient, grimacing as he inspected his now purple finger. "I'm sorry, Captain," Margaret apologized. "No, not your fault," Hawkeye answered around the injured finger he was now sucking on. Radar entered. "Didja hurt yourself, Hawkeye?" he asked softly. Hawk rolled his eyes. "No, my eyes normally bug out of their sockets like this." Radar frowned, turning to Henry. "Guess what came in the mail today, sir?" he asked, voice filled with excitement. Henry scrunched up his eyebrows. "Oh gee, that's a tough one. Hum a few bars, Radar." 

The young clerk shook his head. "No sir, it's your discharge." Henry looked up, his attention caught. "My discharge?" he asked, dumbstruck. Radar nodded. "Yup. You're going home, sir." Henry blinked. "Home. I'm going home. I'm going home!" 

"That's terrific, Henry," I called. "Wonderful," Margaret exclaimed. "That's great, Henry," Hawk enthused, with his finger still stuck in his mouth. He elbowed Frank, who was standing nearby. "Don't you have something you'd like to say to the Colonel?" he urged. Frank frowned. "It's about time I was put in charge," he huffed, stomping out of the room. 

Despite Frank's sourness, we gave Henry a real good party, and a super sendoff. As we bid our commander goodbye, more choppers came in, drowning us again in the blood of innocent children. We carted Henry, who wanted to stay and help, onto his own chopper, before starting our work.

The next day, during yet another OR session, Radar slowly entered the room, unmasked, shaking, and white as a sheet. "Radar, put a mask on!" I ordered. "If that's my discharge, give it to me straight. I can take it," Hawk quipped. 

"I have a message." 

Those words became the words that instantaneously struck fear in my heart. I heard them twice in my lifetime, and both times, they brought bad news. But more about the second time later.

"Lieutenant Colonel..Henry Blake's plane.." He paused, take in a long, shuddering breath, the only sound heard in the now – silent room. "Was shot down, over the Sea of Japan. It spun in..there were no survivors." His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and he walked out again, looking much older than his tender 19 years. Hawkeye and I exchanged a look, while Margaret's eyes pooled with tears. The silence was mercifully broken as an instrument clattered to the ground. Coming alive again, Hawkeye was the first to speak. "Retractor." We continued our work, the only thing that was assured in this hellhole. 

Hawkeye, Margaret and I trudged out of the OR, still dressed in our bloodied scrubs. Walking into Radar's office, we found him sitting on his bunk, staring unblinkingly, straight ahead. Hawk reached out, tentatively, to touch his shoulder. He gazed up at Hawk – and his eyes looked dead. Margaret gasped sharply at my side, while Hawkeye recoiled slightly. Without warning, he stood up and walked out. 

"I'm gonna follow him – he's in no state to be alone," Hawkeye commented, pushing the door open. He paused, looking back at Margaret and I, still in a state of shock at the young man's lifeless expression. "Coming?" he asked. We nodded, following him out in to the compound.

Hawkeye sighed as he dropped onto his bunk. Radar had gotten hysterical, so Hawk had sedated him. He was now sleeping peacefully, under watch. He scrubbed his hands over his stubble – darkened cheeks. "God, what a day," he said, voice hollow. I nodded. "Who would have thought Henry would be the first to go?" I said to the dingy olive ceiling. "That's not what worries me," Hawk said, staring at me. "It's who's next." He grabbed me, suddenly, pushing up the sleeve of my shirt. I winced, knowing what his reaction would be, when he saw the long, pale scars lining my wrists.

"God dammit Trapper!" he shouted. "What the fuck are you doing? You told me you stopped!" I jerked my arm out of his grasp. "I did, asshole. Those are old." He stared at me. "Yeah right." Suddenly, he dropped to his knees in front of me. "Don't you get it? You are going to die. I'm not exactly leaping for joy at that prospect. Please, stop. For my sake," he pleaded. I stared down, into those tragic blue eyes – and something snapped. I stood up abruptly. "Stop trying to run my life, dammit. What the hell do you care if I die. You'll just go find someone else to fool around with." I really didn't believe any of that, I was just angry – about Henry, about the war, about everything. "Stay the fuck out of my life." I stormed out of the tent.

***TBC***

Please review 


	6. Reconciliation

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and I doubt the people who do would put them in such situations. So there.

Thanks to all who reviewed – winners, did those brownies come yet?

Our Story

Chapter 6: Reconciliation 

I stomped out of the Swamp, my blood at full boil. Who the hell did he think he was, telling me what to do, ordering me around as if I was a kid. I walked away, heading south, not going anywhere in particular, when I bumped into Margaret. "Hi Trapper," she greeted, carelessly throwing me a glance. At the sight of my clenched fists and narrowed eyes, she stopped, looking concerned. "What's up?" she asked, gently touching my arm. I jerked my head in the direction of the Swamp. "Hawkeye," I replied sharply. She smiled sadly. "Come with me to the Mess Tent. We'll talk over a cup of crap – sorry, coffee." I laughed, happy at the sight of a joking, carefree Margaret, instead of the uptight, no nonsense one I was used to. She pulled me to the Mess Tent, and plunked me at a table, placing a coffee cup in front of me. "Sit. Drink." 

I grinned cheekily, sticking out my tongue and panting like a dog. She rolled her eyes. "Stay, Fido." I laughed. So she did have a sense of humour. She opened her mouth, obviously to say something, but a jeep honked outside, making it look as if she had honked. I cracked up, causing her to crack up, and people around us to stare. I stood, still laughing, to see who was honking. 

An older, stern – looking man sat in a jeep, which was parked next to Radar. The young man was leaning against the building, topless and eyes shut, holding a tanning card (A/N: I have *no*  idea what that silver cardboard Radar was tanning with is called, so I gave it a name. If anyone knows, please tell me, and I'll correct it.) to reflect the sun onto his chest. The older man stared patiently, before honking the horn again, rather impatiently. "Stick that horn in your ear," Radar snapped, eyes still closed. The man's mouth twitched, as if he was trying to hold back a smile, but he succeeded, hopping out of the jeep. "On your feet, son, I'm Colonel Potter." I gaped. This guy, with his birds firmly pinned to his collar, was our new C.O? He looked RA, and if he was, we were done for. 

Meanwhile, Radar shrieked slightly, dropping the card and standing, saluting with one arm held over his bare chest. "I'm sorry sir," he stammered. Potter returned the salute, freeing Radar's other arm. "Permission to cover up my nakedidity?" he stumbled, reaching for his shirt. Potter nodded, and Radar scrambled into his shirt, ushering the Colonel into the office. 

I burst out laughing, Margaret beside me. "Oh, poor Radar," she sympathized. "I feel sorry for him," I agreed. "That guy's regular army." Margaret smacked my arm. "What's wrong with being RA?" she demanded. I simply rolled my eyes. She pulled me back to the table. "So, spill your guts," she urged. I took a sip of coffee – dumb idea – and peered into the cup, grimacing. "If I drink this shit, I most certainly will," I commented. She stared at me, before snorting with laughter, causing me to start up again. Needless to say, we didn't talk about much.

That evening, we both had Post – Op duty. On our break, Margaret pulled me outside. "Ok, now talk," she ordered, sitting on a crate. "Ok. Hawk…I don't know what's gotten into him, lately. He's moody, possessive, jealous, snippy – if he was a woman, I'd think he was PMSing." She shot me a "you have know idea what you're talking about, so don't joke about it" look. "He's been trying to order me around…and it's really starting to piss me off!" 

She smiled. "Trap, don't let him get to you. He's just in a mood. I don't know why, but he'll take a while to get his head on straight. Don't give up the one person that loves you. Aside from me, of course." I choked on the growing lump in my throat. Margaret continued. "Hawkeye has his little quirks and idiosyncrasies, that's what makes him so loveable – most of the time. But don't drop him just because he's a little more quirky than usual. He couldn't handle that, I know." I nodded. "I know."

Margaret checked her watch. "Rats. I've gotta go back on duty." I grinned. "I'm off, Ferret Face is on now." Sure enough, a grumbling Frank turned the corner, shot us a dirty look, before disappearing into the building. Margaret sighed, standing up. I leaned in, kissing her softly. She pulled back, arching an eyebrow. "For helping me out," I said simply. She smiled before following Frank, while I headed back to the Swamp.

Hawkeye was stretched out on his bunk, reading a dirty magazine stapled in the cover of a different dirty magazine. The one he was reading was for gay men, so he stapled it into a _Frolicking Nudists_ cover, to avoid suspicion. I saw his eyes flick up from the magazine, register who entered, and then flick back down. I leaned over, plucking the magazine from his hands, flipping it into a corner of the Swamp, and straddled him. He glared up at me. "I was ogling that," he snapped. I leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Wouldn't you rather ogle me instead?" His eyes widened. "Sure, but aren't you mad at me?" he asked, bemused. I shook my head. "Not any more." His response was cut off as I captured his mouth with mine.

The rest of the week went without a hitch. Wounded came and went, but Hawk, Margaret and I were in a pretty good mood. The new Colonel had scared us, at first, with his no nonsense ways – he even forced Klinger out of his dresses, giving him a psychological rash – but he had loosened up considerably, and life was as good as it could get when you trapped in a 24/7 fungus convention/rat paradise. 

That was, until, Potter announced that the 8063rd needed a surgeon to show them some new technique we had picked up somewhere. Seeing as Hawkeye was the Chief Surgeon, and the one who had skillfully pulled off the first of the difficult operations, he was loaded onto a jeep, with mounds of trading goods piled around him. He stared about at the piles of vials, the boxes of everything. "Great. Leave any room for the driver?" he quipped. Potter rolled his eyes. "Get going. And stay on the marked roads. Radar has the map, right Radar?" 

"Right, sir." The young clerk's muffled voice floated from somewhere among the boxes. He was sitting in the front seat next to Hawkeye, but so much stuff had been piled around him, he was nowhere in sight. Hawkeye knocked on a box. "Radar, if you can hear me, knock 3 times. I'll get a crew in here to clean out the debris." No reply. "My God, he's dead," Hawkeye cried, throwing himself on the steering wheel. "Get out of here, or you'll be the one pushing up the daisies," Colonel Potter warned. Margaret gave Hawkeye a quick hug. "Be careful. I know a whole bunch of people who would be rather annoyed with you if you got killed." Hawk laughed. "That's good to know."

As I leaned over to give him a "man hug", I whispered in his ear. "Be careful. I'll kill myself if you get hurt." He smiled at me, quickly and carefully kissing my cheek. He started the jeep. "All right, let's move her out!" They pulled out of the compound, spraying us with dust. Margaret and I stood, rooted to the spot, watching them drive away.

***TBC***

I guess you can pretty well imagine what's going to happen next. Feel free to guess in the reviews you'll send!


	7. Help

Tanks for the reviews, they are loved and appreciated. Ok. Here's a warning. 

***WARNING*** This chapter contains harsh language, a teensy bit of gore, and an equally teensy bit of sexuality. Not m/m, however. I'm not saying anything else, though, it'll ruin the story.

Ok, I lied. Just one thing – the song written is my own, so please ask if you want to use it..though I can't see why you would..

Our Story

Chapter 7: Comfort

"Where the hell are they?" I demanded for the 20 billionth time in the past hour. I was pacing the Swamp, still dressed in my blood soaked scrubs. Margaret sat on Hawkeye's cot, looking just as worried as I felt. "I don't know.." she said helplessly. "Well, why isn't anyone out looking for them?" I shouted, slamming my fists on the table. The Still rattled dangerously. Margaret shrugged. "The weather," she replied, motioning to the huge black thunderclouds that spewed rain. Lightening shattered the sky, and thunder crashed, shaking the tiny tents.

I sighed. It had been 24 hours since Hawk and Radar left the camp, and they still hadn't returned, and everybody was getting nervous. I opened my mouth to shout something else, but the PA crackled, drowning out my words. "ATTENTION ALL PERSONNELL, WOUNDED IN THE COMPOUND! GET YOURS WHILE THEY'RE STILL BLEEDING!" I swore viciously, chasing after Margaret, out of the tent and into the pouring rain. 

I slid on the mud, nearly smashing into Klinger, who was barefooted, having kicked off his 6 inch pumps. "Trapp, this one looks bad. There's a lot of blood coming from lots of different places," he reported. I knelt in the slimy, cold mud, ripping back the blanket. Behind me, Klinger gasped. I snapped my head to look at him. He was staring at the soldier's face, which was cut and bleeding. But no amount of blood could hide that face – Radar.

"Shit!" I shouted. I whirled around, searching for Margaret. "Margaret!" She turned to face me. "What?" 

"Radar's here, he's hurt pretty bad." Her face twisted with anxiety, and she started to run over, but I stopped her. "If he's here, chances are Hawk is too. Look for him – and call me if you find him!" she nodded, turning and heading for the large group of stretchers clustered near the building. I started my own search, instructing Klinger to get Radar in to Potter right away. He returned shortly, saying that Potter wanted me in the OR now.

"I can't go – I've gotta find Hawkeye!" Margaret appeared at my elbow. "Go," she ordered. "I'm looking for him – I'll bring him right to you if I find him." I hesitated before turning and following Klinger through the blinding rain.

"Trapp, I found him," Margaret called. I whipped my head around, as the corpsmen placed a stretcher on the one empty table. I glanced at the nurse, silently asking her to close for me. She nodded, and I ran over to the table.

Margaret stood next to me, her face pale under both the mask and the splotches of mud. She grabbed a pair of gloves, snapping them over my hands before her own. I glanced up at the patient's face. His jet black was stained with blood from a head wound, and he was white from lack of blood. His eyes opened for a minute, and there was no longer any doubt that it was Hawk. Those azure orbs found my eyes, silently pleading, before sliding shut again. 

I quickly assessed my lover's wounds. He had multiple bullets lodged in his body, countless fractures, a large, deep cut on his head, and severe blood lose due to the numerous cuts all over his body. I whirled into action, removing six bullets from his chest, legs, back, and stomach. After closing his chest, having done some work on a punctured lung, I turned my attention to the head wound. I removed enough shrapnel to make a Ford, then stitched the wound up, praying that it wasn't serious enough for brain damage. 

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Hawkeye's POV

I woke up, my eyes slowly sliding open. Through my blurred vision, and the intense pain the light was causing. I registered Post – Op, though what I was doing there, I couldn't tell. I tried to move, but fiery pain ripped through my limbs. A nurse glanced over sharply as I gasped. She jumped up, running to the door. "Doctor, he's awake," she called.

Trapper burst through the doors, followed by Margaret and Colonel Potter. They clustered around my bed, all looking worried, yet relieved. I opened my mouth, trying to speak, but, as I realized, I had a tube in. I motioned for Trapper to block it, so I could try to speak. He complied, his hazel eyes saying things his lips couldn't. "Where..Radar?" I managed to wheeze. Trap motioned to the bed next to me. I couldn't turn my head, but I reached out to grab his hand, and heard his voice. "Don't worry, Hawkeye, I'm fine." I nodded carefully, my neck aching.

Without warning, the world darkened. The last thing I heard was Trapper's voice. "Hawkeye!"

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Trapper's POV

Hawkeye's blue eyes rolled back in his head, and his hand, in Radar's, went limp. I cried out, grabbing his neck for a pulse. I thanked God when I found one, weak but present. "Damn it, what's wrong with him?" I shouted. Margaret winced, stroking my hand, while Colonel Potter leaned across me, examining Hawkeye. "He's slipped into a coma, son." Tears spilled from my eyes as I listened to those words. Suddenly, I was angry. "Why him?! Why not me?!" I picked up the nearest thing – an empty blood bottle – and hurled it across the room. It smashed into the wall, spraying glass everywhere. Potter beckoned to the nurse, while Margaret tried to calm me down. The last thing I felt was a slight prick as Potter sedated me.

I woke up, hours later, on Hawkeye's empty bunk in the Swamp. Margaret sat next to me. I glanced at her hopefully, but she shook her head, tears threatening to fall from her icy blue eyes.  I choked on the lump in my throat, trying not to cry. I gave in. "He can't die, Margaret, he's all I have to live for!" She wrapped her arms around me, rocking me back and forth, like a baby. "I know," she crooned, stroking my hair. "I'm scared too. We all are. But you can't let it hurt you." I pulled away. "You don't understand! We are connected – if he bleeds, I bleed. He's a part of me, I can't let him go!" I collapsed again, my anger ebbing away.

"Trapper, I know. But be strong – if not for your own sake, then for Hawkeye's. What would happen if you grieve yourself to death, then what would he do? Be strong, for him." She pulled my head into her lap, singing softly.

_"Be strong, my baby._

_Don't let your fears set in._

_Be strong, my baby._

_Things will be good again._

_Hold on, my baby._

_Hold your head up high._

_Hold on, my baby._

_There's no reason to cry._

_Be brave, my baby._

_Don't give up the fight._

_Be brave, my baby,_

_And I'll help you though this night._

_Although you're feeling all alone,_

_Someone is here for you._

_So be strong, my baby,_

_Though it's the hardest thing to do."_

I sat up, our eyes locking. We slowly leaned forwards, our lips meeting. This was not sex, it was the simple comfort of two grief stricken friends, helping each other through the night.

***TBC***

Please review!


	8. Regeneration

Thanks for the reviews. That's about all I have to say.

Our Story

Chapter 8: Regeneration

"Doctor, he's awake!" the nurse informed me, hurrying over to Hawkeye's bedside. I chased after her, Margaret following me, and the colonel following her. It was like a big Follow – The – Leader. I dropped onto the stool next to Hawkeye's bed. He gazed up, those innocent – looking eyes shooting arrows through my heart. "Hi," he said quietly. "Hi," I returned, my face breaking into a smile for the first time in a week. 

"How are you feeling?" Margaret asked. Hawk gave a ghost of a smirk. "Like I've been shot. How are you?" Margaret rolled her eyes. "He's fine." Hawk laughed at that, stopping and wincing – he had six broken ribs. 

Noticing my expression, Margaret cleared her throat impatiently. "Well, I'll be leaving now – Colonel, I, um, want to talk to you about the new rotation. Um, Joann, you should come too." She tugged the Colonel away, winking at me, the nurse trailing behind. I winked back, pulling my chair closer to Hawk. "You had me really worried," I chastised, brushing his hair from his eyes. "What did I tell you before you left – don't get hurt. But you didn't listen to me, did you?" he grinned, yawning. "Yes Mom." I smiled. Glancing around, I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips. As we pulled apart, I noticed Margaret standing at the doors, a sad smile on her face. As Hawk dropped off, I got up, walking over to her. I hugged her. "Thanks for getting rid of everyone," I said. She grinned. "No problem," she said softly. "I love seeing you so happy again." 

I pulled her out, into the compound. "We need to talk." She sat on a crate while I paced back and forth – a habit I picked up from Hawk. "About what?" she asked. "About…you know. Last night." Margaret frowned. "What's there to talk about? I was upset, you were upset, that's all there was too it. It's not like anything will come of it." I bit my lip. "Yeah, well, that's where you're wrong. Margaret, I haven't…been with a woman for over a month – until last night. You sort of…I dunno how to explain it…I mean, Hawk and I have been together for about 6 weeks now, but I'd been with women for 15 years…that sort of – feeling – doesn't get washed away just because I now play for the other team. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "You want to be with Hawkeye, but you want to be with a woman too, because you enjoy both…Trapp, I don't think this is the best idea." I shrugged. "I know. But I can't help it. And not just any woman…before I…traded sides… I had the hots for you so bad. Hawkeye too." She arched an eyebrow. "Really? Hmm, so did I. You should have said something."

I gaped. "Uh Margaret, aren't you forgetting something? About 5'7", 160lbs, balding, no chin and lips, bears a striking resemblance to certain choice rodents?"

"Frank? Ha, I never really had anything with Frank. Oh, I know, you guys asked me a couple of times, but you were just kidding. Had you actually come up to me, asked me with a semi – adult manner, I would have said yes like that." She snapped her fingers. "Huh," I mused. "Anyways, we're off topic. What am I going to do" I hate to even think about cheating on Hawkeye, but I want to be with you too."

She smiled slowly, leaning over to kiss me, soft at first, then growing harder. When she pulled away, I gasped for breath. "As much as I would adore that, I can't jeopardize you and Hawkeye. You are perfect together – don't you dare mess that up." She ran her hands through my hair, like you would a child, then walked away, looking sad, but happy at the same time – she had done the right thing, but it hurt to do it.

I slumped onto the crate, collected my shattered feelings, and then headed back into Post – Op.

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Hawkeye's POV 

I woke up to find Trapper, asleep on the stool by my bedside. I sat up carefully, glancing around. Post – Op was empty, but I could hear voices from OR. I puzzled why Trapp wasn't in there, but took no notice, taking instead my advantage of my lover. I stretched towards him, teasing a finger down his back. He shivered, but didn't awake. I laughed to myself. "Time for more drastic measures." I reached out, capturing his lips with mine. He automatically let my tongue through. As I watched, eyes open, his eyelids fluttered, and he opened his own eyes. He pulled back, gazing at me as if he couldn't place me. Then – I could almost hear it – it clicked. "Hawk?" he muttered, voice clogged with sleep. "Was – was that you?" I rolled my eyes. "No, the Tooth Fairy, she was checking for cavities." He grinned. "What a way to wake up. I wish I could get up that way every morning." I laughed. "Don't worry. Once this stupid war ends, we'll go to Boston, get an apartment, and I'll wake you up that way every single morning." 

Little did I know that would never happen.

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Trapper's POV

I was just leaning in to reciprocate my wake – up call, when I heard a voice. "Trapper?" I turned, groaning inwardly, to find Margaret. "They need you in OR. I'll sit with him." I nodded, settled for ruffling Hawkeye's hair, and left.  

After the OR session, I walked back to Post – Op to find Hawkeye asleep on a stretcher. Fearing the worst, I panicked. "What's the matter?" I demanded, running over to Margaret. She smiled. "Nothing. We need the beds, so we're moving him." I frowned. "Back to the Swamp?" 

She winked. "Nope. And you have me to thank for this – we're putting him in the VIP tent. So there's lots of – ahem hem – privacy."

I danced around gleefully. "Margaret, you're amazing!" She grinned. "I know." I stopped dancing long enough to give her a hug. "And modest too! Such virtues!" She laughed. "I'm glad you think so highly of me."

As the corpsmen lowered Hawkeye onto the bed in the VIP tent, I sat in a chair next to him. As I drifted in and out of sleep, he opened his eyes. "Hey, why don't you get some sleep – back in the Swamp. I'll be fine." I nodded, climbed to my feet, kissed his forehead, and trudged out.

I bumped into Margaret on my way – not to the Swamp, but the O – Club. "Hi," I yawned. She smiled. "Hi yourself. You look ready for bed." I nodded. "Oh, I am. I just wanted a drink before I got there." She paused, looking comtemplative. "Hey," she said. "I've got a bottle of 15 year old Scotch in my tent, and I've been looking for someone to share a drink with. Want some?"

"Sure." We strolled to her tent, and she pulled out 2 glasses and a large, square bottle. But a friendly drink would soon take a turn – for the worst. 

We polished off the whole bottle, easily. I was lying on her bunk, twirling my fingers in the air above my head. She was lying next to me, watching my fingers. I stopped twirling, and turned my head to find her face next to mine. "Oh, hello."

"Hello," she replied. I leaned in, pressing my lips to hers. She pulled away. "Trapp, no…what about Hawkeye?" I shrugged. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him." I rolled over, straddling her, and made a trail of kisses down her neck. For the second night in a row, I made love to her. But this time, there was no excuse.

***TBC***

Oooh, naughty Trapper. When will he learn? Tsk tsk…please review! We're getting close to the end now – I'll be able to explain all the cryptic remarks through the chapters. Ta ta!


	9. Destroy

Thanks for the reviews. Ok, this is the second last chapter, there will be another, then an epilogue. I'm so close to revealing the cryptic remarks I've been putting in.

Our Story

Chapter 9: Destroy

I strolled into Post – Op, whistling cheerfully. A nurse shot me a strange look, but thought I wasn't worth the time. Her loss. I scanned the room for Hawkeye, panicked until I remembered he was moved to the VIP tent, and left Post – Op, practically skipping across the compound. 

As I reached the tent, I heard voices inside.

"You've got to talk to him, Hawkeye, because frankly - " Margaret's voice.

"Don't say frankly." Hawkeye's voice.

"Ok. Because actually, there is that better? Actually, he's starting to frighten me."

"I'll talk to him, but I don't know what good it's gonna do."

I pulled open the door then, to find Margaret in the chair next to Hawkeye's bed. When she saw who opened the door, her eyes widened slightly, and she stood up abruptly. "I gotta go," she said quietly, hurrying out of the tent. 

I turned to Hawkeye – and shivered. He had such a dead expression in his eyes – as if he had just lost the will to live. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "As much as I hate to ask this…is something wrong?" he glared. "Gee, I don't know," he began, sarcastically. I could tell this was _not_ going to be a good conversation. "I'm lying here in a bed, having just got shot. Well, that's fine, I can deal. Then I find out that my best friend, and the man I love, has been fucking around! Yeah, everything is fan – fucking – tastic!"

I winced. "Oh yeah, that." 

"Yeah, that. How the hell can you do this to me? Do you have no regard for other people's feelings? Damn it, Trapper, what the hell is wrong with you." 

"I was drunk," I pleaded weakly. "That's no excuse!" he raged. "You're the one who got drunk in the first place!" Suddenly, I was angry. "You're not so high and mighty either, Hawkeye. Look me straight in the eyes and truthfully tell me you've never made a mistake when you were drunk!" He clenched his fists, the knuckles turning white. "I have made plenty of mistakes, but I've never messed around with someone while I was in a relationship!"

"You've never been in a relationship before! Hawkeye, I've known you since the fourth grade, and in all our years as friends, you have never once been in a serious relationship." His eyes narrowed. "Quite obviously, I'm not currently in one, either."

Ouch. That hurt, and I didn't deserve it. His words cut into me, worse than the glass I dragged across my wrists. "Get out," he spat, staring at the ceiling. I started to say something, then turned and left. 

I trudged back to the Swamp, throwing myself on my cot. Frank – just the person I needed to see – took a look at my now red – rimmed eyes and tearstained cheeks, and smirked. "What's the matter, McIntyre?" he asked cruelly. "Wouldn't Pierce give you any?" I stood up, wiping my eyes. "Get out of here, Frank, before I tear off your head and throw it to the wolves." He smirked some more. "Oh, poor McIntyre, can't get his _boyfriend_ to play with him," he taunted. I snapped. I leapt towards him, punching any flesh I came in contact with. He managed to pry me off, and run for the door. "You're going to be sent to prison for this – you and your immoral friend!" He left.

Anger dissipating, I flopped once more, face first, on my bunk. My eyes caught the gleaming flash of – metal. My old standby, the one thing that could ease the pain. I grabbed the knife, dragging the jagged blade once, twice, three times across my wrist. The dark red blood began to run, trailing down my arm. I repeated the process on the other arm, then poised, pondering my next move.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Hawkeye's POV

I lay there after Trapp left, motionless. I couldn't help but wonder if I had been a little hard on him. After all – he was drunk. I carefully pulled myself into the wheelchair that sat next to my bed, and slowly wheeled over to the Swamp. 

Through the thin mesh of the walls, I saw Trapper, back to me. As I opened the door – I saw the worst I had ever seen in my life. 

Trapper sat, one bleeding hand holding a knife. His arms were a mess of dark red blood pouring from the slices on his arm. I wheeled over to him as fast as I could. "Trapper, no!" 

He waved the knife in the air. "Don't stop me, Hawk. I don't like life, I get up and leave," he said chillingly. "Trapp, don't!" I pleaded. "I'm sorry about what I said. I overreacted – I do that a lot. For God's sake, don't do anything stupid!" he gritted his teeth. "That's good, coming from you. Get out, Hawk, and leave me the fuck alone."

He returned to his task. "Goodbye, everyone!" he announced – then plunged the knife into his chest.

***TBC***

Bwahahahaha! Cliffhanger? Should I kill off Trapper?


	10. Threaten

Thanks for the review! I would have posted sooner, but FF.net was down for three days! *sniff*

Out Story

Chapter 10: Threaten

Hawkeye's POV

"NO!"

The scream tore from my lips as I watched my lover bury his bloodstained knife in his chest. The chilling light left his eyes, the tortured expression left his face, and the strength left his legs. He dropped backwards onto his bunk, the knife still embedded in his chest.

"For God's sake, somebody help!" I shouted. Where the hell was everybody? When you wanted privacy, everybody clamoured for you. When you needed somebody, people disappeared. The door banged open.

"Frank – damn – Frank, I need your help."

"No."

"Frank, look at Trapper."

He glanced over at Trap, then shrugged. "Nice trick."

I stared. "Frank, it's not a trick. He's dying! DO SOMETHING!"

Frank smirked. "Why should I do anything for you immoral perverts?" He left. Margaret came in.

"Margaret…Margaret!" She grinned. "Hi Hawk. Oh my – Trapper!" Her eyes found the prone position of our friend. She banged open the door. "Colonel Potter, come quickly!" The colonel rushed over, the gruesome scene meeting his eyes. "Holy hemostat! Grab his feet, Major." They carefully lifted Trapper, as I wheeled out. "Litter! Corpsmen! Somebody help!"

The world blurred, and the next thing I knew, I was back in Post – Op. "Margaret," I called. She hurried over. "You passed out," she said, answering one of my silent questions. "We saved him…well, sort of." She pointed to Trapper, lying on his back in a bed, his torso wrapped in bandages. "He went into cardiac arrest three times. He lost so much blood. He barely made it. We…we don't know if he'll ever wake up, Hawk."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A/N: Here's a new POV – Margaret's!

I watched as Hawkeye clenched his hands around the arms of his wheelchair. His eyes never left Trapper's face. Suddenly, the colour drained from his face, his eyes filling with pain. "Damn it, Margaret, I'm so stupid! The last thing I said to him was that…I practically broke up with him! This is all my fault. He's been cutting again, I should have told someone, I should have said something!"

I turned his chair around, facing him. "Listen to me," I said, placing my hands on his arms. "It's not your fault. It's nobody's fault. You were angry. I'm not condoning what you said, but it isn't your fault."

"Frank."

I frowned. "What?" He turned his eyes back to Trapper's unconscious form. "This is all Frank's fault. If he had just believed me when I told him, then Trapper wouldn't have lost so much blood. I'll kill him."

I rolled my eyes. "Hawkeye, I know that Frank should have listened to you, but even if he had, it wouldn't have made that much of a difference." His gaze left Trapper to focus on me. "So, you're pardoning him?" I sighed. "Hawk, you're overreacting again."

"Am I? I don't think worrying over my best friend is overreacting!"

I stood up. "Go back to the VIP tent. You could use some rest – we don't need both our cutters on their backs." Ignoring me, Hawkeye wheeled over to Trapper's bedside.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Trapper's POV 

I opened my eyes, wincing as the bright lights glared. For a spilt second, I could have sworn it was heavenly light – maybe I had succeeded. But it shifted into the hanging lights in Post – Op, and I cursed silently. I was still here. I would always be here.

Carefully turning my head, I found Hawkeye, asleep in his wheelchair. As I watched, his eyelids fluttered, then opened. "Trap!" he exclaimed, voice husky. He reached out to touch my face. "They weren't sure that you'd wake up. You've been out for a week." I grinned slowly. "You know me, always breaking the rules." He smiled, then frowned. "I'm sorry Trap." 

"Forget it."

"No. I yelled at you, like always. This is my fault."

"No it isn't, so shut up, and stop blaming yourself." 

The door to Post – Op banged open, and Frank stomped in. He gave us a dirty look, before donning his lab coat and stomping over. "Pierce, you're not supposed to be here. Get back to the VIP tent."

"Go trim your nose hair in a chopper blade, Frank."

Frank narrowed his eyes. "Listen, you degenerates. I know all about your little fling, so you'd better not disobey me, or I'll turn you in."

"You can't prove anything, Frank." He smirked. "I can't. But I have a witness who can. 2, actually. Of course, they may need a little…persuasion."

Hawkeye clenched his fists, as I struggled to sit up. "Frank, if you lay one slimy hand on Radar - "

"Or Margaret," I interjected, trying and failing to get to an upright position. "Or Margaret," Hawkeye agreed. "I'll rip you apart."

"And I'll rip your pieces apart," I finished. Frank still smirked. "Neither of you are really in a position to be making threats, now are you?" He slunk away. "Damn," Hawkeye swore. "I'm gonna follow him." I nodded. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Hawkeye's POV

I wheeled out of Post – Op, into the dusty compound. Trailing Frank was no easy task, especially in a wheelchair. I headed for the VIP tent.

Inside, I held onto the door as I slowly stood up. My legs buckled immediately, and I fell back into the chair. Swearing under my breath, I stood again – only to fall again. 

About two hours later, I finally walked around the tent without falling. Taking a deep breath, I ventured out into the compound. I knocked on the door to Margaret's tent. She opened it, eyes wide. "Hawkeye! You're walking!"

I walked in, sitting carefully on her bunk while she watched. "Why do I feel like I'm 8 months old, and taking my first steps?" I asked, testing my ability to stand and sit. She laughed. "Does baby want a cookie?" she taunted jokingly. I began to retort, before remembering why I had come. 

"Margaret, you need to be careful. Frank is trying to get enough evidence on Trapper and I. He knows you and Radar know something…just be careful. Try not to be alone with him at anytime. We're afraid he'll try to blackmail you – or worse, threaten you."

Having warned Margaret, I moved as fast as I could to Radar's office. Radar had been up and about for a week now, having recovered from our sniper party faster than me. "Radar," I called, automatically fearing the worst when he didn't appear before I called, as usual. He poked his head out from Potter's office. "What is it, sir?"

Ignoring his respectfulness, I spoke quietly, knowing Frank was still in Post – Op. "Look. Frank's trying to dig up stuff on Trap and I. He knows you know, so watch out for him. Don't be alone with him ever." He nodded slowly. 

Two weeks later, Trapper was moved to the Swamp. I was almost fully recovered, my only problem my still sore ribs, and Trapper was progressing well. One evening, I was testing the latest gin batch, as Radar walked in. I remembered later that he didn't knock – rather uncharacteristic of him.

Trapper smirked as I choked and gasped on the gin. "Smooth." Radar tugged at my sleeve. "What's up, Radar? You're flushed. Spying in the nurse's showers again?" He shook his head quickly. "No. But Major Burns just went into Major Houlihan's tent…"

I had asked Radar to keep a watchful eye on Margaret, and Margaret to watch Radar. Jumping up from the cot, I raised a hand to stop Trapper, who was trying to stand. "I'll handle this. C'mon Radar."

Stopping outside the door, I listened carefully.

"Frank, I told you, it's over between us."

"I know that, and I understand that, but wouldn't it be nice to finally get those two perverts out of here?"

"Frank, Hawkeye and Trapper are my friends. I don't want them going anywhere."

"Fine. I'll get them by myself. Watch out, Margaret. I won't forget this."

The door banged open and Frank stormed out, barely leaving Radar and I time to duck behind some bushes. We rushed into the tent to find a tear – stained Margaret. She practically ran into my arms, sobbing into my chest. I cringed as she pressed herself against my still – healing ribs. "He's frightening me, Hawkeye." 

"I know," I replied, stroking her hair. "Don't worry. It'll all be over soon."

Little did I know that it would all be over in a few short hours.

I returned to the Swamp, Trapper pestering me for details. As I rehashed what Frank had said, he grew angrier. "God damn him!" he snapped. Anger gone in a flash, he slumped against my chest. "I'm really getting tired of all this," he muttered quietly. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, my chin resting on his curls. Raising his head, his lips met mine for the first time in over a month. The kiss grew more heated, and hands started to roam, tugging at various pieces of clothing. Suddenly, a click and a bright flash startled us. Frank emerged from behind a chair. "Say cheese," he grinned.

He finally had the evidence he needed. 

***TBC***

It's almost over! Only the epilogue is left, and that'll be up very soon. Please review!


	11. Epilogue

Epilogue! This is the longest story I've written so far, and it was surprisingly easy. Thanks for all the reviews.

June 1958

Frank presented his pictures at a court martial. Hawk and I were given a dishonourable discharge, and sent back to the states. To our great relief, and Frank's great disappointment, they didn't take away our practices. We could still do the only work we knew how to do.

Not knowing how to face our families, stateside co – workers, and the general public, we moved north to Canada. We had done a little research, and found that Canadians were much more accepting of our position. We moved to a little city named Brampton, and set up a practice. None of our patients seemed to be bothered by our relationship. 

When the war ended, we contacted Margaret, who came to work with us. The three of us worked together for a long time, and became even closer. We were ushers at her wedding, and delivered her twins - Benjamin and John.

Time went on. We were very happy – we were together, the war was over, we had friends by our side, people in the community accepted us. How could life get any better?

Then, the unthinkable happened. It was at the fourth year reunion. We had a reunion every year, and Hawk and I were very surprised that we were included on the guest list. We met BJ Hunnicut and Charles Emerson Winchester the III, the surgeons that replaced us. Hawk and I took an instant liking to BJ, who started the reunion by pulling a very elaborate practical joke on Frank. It took a little while to get used to the pomposity of Charles, but we eventually realized that he wasn't that bad. 

Hawkeye disappeared to the bathroom. When he didn't return after 10 minutes, I got worried. After half an hour, I was frantic. Just then, Frank re – entered the room, a very smug look on his face. After searching the building, the police had us go to our hotel to wait. I was hysterical by that time.

At 4AM, a somber – looking police officer entered the room. "I have a message."

Those of us who remembered that statement – me, Margaret, Radar, Klinger, and Father Mulcahy – exchanged a horrified glance. Those words brought pain the first time we heard them – as they would the second. 

"We have found Dr. Pierce," the officer continued. "He's…been murdered."

I collapsed – not fainted, unfortunately. My legs gave out from under me, and I crumpled. I wish to this day that I could have fainted. Then I wouldn't have heard the words that separated my beloved and I forever.

"He was stabbed 17 times. We have apprehended a suspect. Does anyone know a Frank Burns?"

I found my strength. "Frank."

Frank was found guilty of first-degree murder, and was sentenced to life in prison with no chance of parole.

(A/N: I'm guessing that they probably wouldn't give such a harsh sentence, but I wanted Frank to pay.)

And I continue to live out my life in the little apartment over our practice. But one day soon I will rejoin my Hawkeye. And someone else will have to tell our story.

***THE END***

Thanks to everybody who stuck with this story. I want to explain something – I like explaining things. The little bit about Canada is not to insult the U.S., or any other countries. I am very proud of my country – especially our recent acceptance of same sex marriages - and decided to give it a pat on the back. The city they moved to is the city I live in. I'm not trying to bash people from other countries. Watch for more T/H from me – I'm contemplating a series of songfics…sort of like a musical, haha. Or maybe a short story fest, like broncobabe. Thanks for everything, people!


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